


four candles

by thisfp



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post Season 6, Stevie also makes an appearance but not enough to be tagged, birthday and anniversary fic, some grinding and sexual references but nothing really explicit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisfp/pseuds/thisfp
Summary: Patrick wants to do something special for the first birthday they'll be celebrating as husbands in their new home.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 34
Kudos: 220





	four candles

Patrick wants to pull out all the stops for his husband’s 38th birthday. It’ll be the first since the wedding, the first since his family moved away. It falls on a Thursday but trying to make everyone’s schedules fit was a minor disaster, so the Roses will be flying in for the weekend. It’s not necessarily such a bad thing - he loves the Roses, they’re family, but their presence is not always conducive to a nice, drama-free celebration. This way Patrick will be able to give his husband a day for him, to show him how much Patrick loves him and their life here. Then, two days later, Patrick will stand by him when his family spins their larger-than-life tales. Best of both worlds. 

He just needs to figure out what they’ll be doing first. 

He begins brainstorming months in advance, compiling a list in an old budget spreadsheet that David would never think to touch. What remained of their savings after the wedding has been mostly wiped out by the down payment and initial touch-ups on the house, so anything expensive is out. No travel, no big gifts, none of the luxury David wants and deserves. They do have a bit of savings set aside for a honeymoon, but he can’t touch that if he wants to see David in Japan before they retire. 

None of their friends or family are particularly helpful either. Stevie suggests The Dude Cave, which - no. When he asks Alexis, she just tells him about the year David took someone to Paris with the family jet and then was dumped as soon as they landed. His mom tells him she’s positive David will love whatever he does, which does calm him a bit but isn’t quite what he was looking for. She follows it up by asking him to send her more of that face cream David had gotten her addicted to and then makes him pass the phone over to David so they can talk about the latest episode of The Bachelorette. All in all, it doesn’t take him long to realize this will be a one man mission. 

The answer comes to him after a few weeks of despair, a jigsaw piece sliding into place that gives the picture away. He’s getting dinner ready, having left the store in the very capable, very soft hands of his husband earlier in the afternoon. Tonight is pasta night - not completely homemade, but he did go to Elmdale to pick up fresh cannelloni which he’d stuffed with spinach and ricotta and covered with enough cheese and homemade sauce to satisfy David. Not too shabby, if he says so himself.

There’s about fifteen minutes left on the bake when he hears David’s key in the door. He brushes his hands down his apron and listens to the sounds of his husband settling in. The house is old enough that the floors speak, giving away David’s movements as he steps through their home. David makes it to the kitchen as Patrick starts pulling together a simple salad, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s waist and hooking his chin over Patrick’s shoulder. “Hey,”

“Hi, honey.” He twists around to kiss David, drawing it out just enough to catch something that tastes suspiciously like the dark chocolate they’d recently begun selling. “How was your day?”

“You mean in the three hours since I last saw you?” David huffs and slides his hands across Patrick’s chest, up to his shoulders. “Well, Roland came in five minutes before closing and spent fifteen minutes telling me about his big date night plans.”

“Mm, did he at least buy anything?”

“Massage oil _and_ foot cream, yes.”

He wraps his arms around David’s waist. “You also rang in the chocolate you had before closing up, right?”

David’s mouth opens and he looks up towards the ceiling, his grip easing. “Um, yes, obviously I did.”

He’ll have to remember to do it in the morning. He squeezes David closer. “That’s coming out of your paycheck, mister.”

David hums. “Okay, but it’s our store.”

“Mhm, it is, and I do the payroll.”

David sighs, rolling his head back. “ _Anyway_ , it smells amazing in here.”

“Thank you.” He lets a hand slide down the soft fabric of David’s sweater and pats his hip. “It’ll be ready soon.”

David looks at him for a long moment, his gaze warm as it travels across Patrick’s chest, back up to his face. “I like this look for you.”

“What look?”

“The whole,” David runs his hand across Patrick’s chest, slides his fingertips under the apron. “House husband thing. We could get you a nice vintage tea dress, you definitely have the collarbones for it.”

“Mm,” He hums. “Should I also fix you up a drink, baby? Maybe blow you before dinner?”

David tilts his head, lips curling in a soft grin as he looks at Patrick through his lashes. “I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine.”

He kisses David’s cheek. “Go sit down.”

David sighs, breath rushing against Patrick’s forehead. He detaches himself from Patrick with a quick squeeze to his side and crosses the open room. Dropping himself onto the loveseat, he pulls the throw from the back of the couch and spreads it over his lap, the human embodiment of coziness. 

Patrick turns and grabs a bottle of red and one of the wine glasses his aunt Kathleen had given them for the wedding, taking a sip for himself after he pours a generous helping. He crosses the room and steps behind the couch, carefully holding it out for David. 

David’s fingers brush his as David takes the glass. “Thanks, honey.”

“You’re welcome, David.” He leans down and rubs his hands over David’s chest, kissing the ridiculously soft patch of skin behind David’s ear. “What do you want to do tonight? We’ve got massage oil and foot cream, we could have our own special date night.” 

“Ew!” David shudders against him. “Don’t talk about Roland if you want to have a _date night_ ever again.”

He bites back a laugh and nuzzles his husband. “I asked what you wanted.”

David sighs and catches Patrick’s left hand between his, rolling Patrick’s wedding band with his thumb. “Can we watch a movie?”

“Mhm,”

“Can I pick it?”

He huffs a breath that hopefully isn’t too obviously fake. “Will you ring up your chocolate tomorrow?”

David drops his head against the couch, his hair tickling Patrick’s ear. “Fine, but we’re watching 27 Dresses.”

“Mkay.” He squeezes David’s hand and detangles himself, pressing a quick kiss to David’s jaw so he can feel the scratch of David’s stubble. “Get it ready while I finish up dinner.”

He’s half-listening to David talk about the movie as he finishes the salad when it hits him. Movies have been a staple of David’s life for the entire time Patrick’s known him. He knows they were an even bigger piece of his childhood, that with his dad’s rental empire and his mom’s illustrious career, movies were both the cause and balm to the dynamics that controlled his life for so long. It’s a vestigial limb more than anything now - David is now fulfilled in the ways he had then been lacking, even if he does now get a little melancholic during New York Fashion Week. Movies are no longer the necessity they once were, but they’re still significant enough to deserve paying tribute to. 

Hell, David wouldn’t be the man Patrick fell in love with if it weren’t for his endless love for movies. He’s got most of a plan put together by the time Katherine Heigl is showing off her horrendous collection.

\--

Patrick rules out a number of things pretty quickly.

First off, this is going to stay between them. He’d do a lot for David but bringing anyone else into this would likely limit the potential reward and simultaneously increase the risk of complete catastrophe exponentially. Stevie is somewhat trustworthy, but he knows without a shadow of a doubt that she’d invest at least as much effort into making fun of him as she would actually being helpful. He doesn’t need that kind of energy when he’s trying to pull this off for his husband. This is a David and Patrick only event.

For similar reasons this will be occurring indoors. The residents of Schitt’s Creek - much as they’ve grown on him like the mold that inevitably blooms on the cheese David leaves in the fridge for a month too long - are just as likely to throw a massive wrench into this unknowingly as they would if he’d brought them into the fold. With his luck, he’d put something together at the park only for them to get there and find Gail with one of her many male cousins. No, their little romcom moment is not going to have room for any side plots. 

This, unfortunately, takes Notting Hill out of the equation. Even if somehow getting David to come into the store they own together and catch on that he’s supposed to be a celebrity who’s never met Patrick, his husband-slash-business partner, and is hiding from nonexistent paparazzi were a straightforward concept, he could hardly pull it off while some random person was in the background asking about their products. The last scene might have some potential, maybe, except for David’s general aversion to all things pregnancy and Patrick’s desire to be a bit more proactive in this whole thing than simply reading silently on a bench. Regardless, it happens outside and so David’s dream of reenacting any and all bits of this movie ends before it had a chance to begin.

Any sad movie is also out. He’s happy to hold David through a tearjerker, but there’s no world in which he’d celebrate his husband’s birthday and the anniversary of their first date by roleplaying a movie that has anything other than a happy ending in which the protagonists are in a loving and fulfilling long-term relationship. If he’s going to make a fool of himself, he’s going to do it to show David just how much he loves him. 

He makes a list of David’s favourite movies, most of which are crossed off as quickly as they’re added. The Prince and Me and everything starring Hugh Grant and/or Colin Firth are removed because Patrick knows his strengths and accents are not one of them, no matter what David said in the heat of the moment. The very outdoor big reveal of You’ve Got Mail makes it a no-go even if the idea of leading up to it by sending David digital love letters is hard to let go of. 

David would love the drama of a classical movie scene, but the few attempts Patrick makes to source anything that could be used to dress the set quickly lets him know just how far out of his budget it is. He crosses off any movie that was filmed or set before the 80s. 

He could - some of his cousins had horses growing up, he’d ridden enough that he could probably still pull off some basic maneuvers. Maybe he could find a horse and do something new, combine a bunch of the tropes David loves and make something different - something theirs. Except, that’s a terrible idea. They’ve talked a bit about getting a dog - mostly in a nebulous way, as something they could do when things settle down a bit more, but enough that Patrick’s fairly confident a horse up close and personal would not jive with David’s opinions on acceptable levels of shedding. Also, horses are generally considered to be outdoor creatures. 

After three weeks of fruitless brainstorming Patrick is just about at his wits’ end. He just wants to do something nice for his husband, to let him get away for one night even if they can’t afford to actually get away. This idea has rooted itself so deeply in Patrick’s mind that it hurts to consider other options. It’s the exact shade of absurdity that David loves - Patrick can see his smile now, too surprised and caught in the moment to try couching it the way David so often does. He can’t say no to that so when he gets to one movie that he would love to cross off the list but does somehow meet his criteria, he instead highlights it.

Sixteen Candles has not aged well. At all. Patrick has seen it twice - both times with David - and it’s safe to say that he’s not a fan. David watched it young enough to maintain some level of nostalgia despite its many flaws, but all of Patrick’s positive memories associated with it stem from curling up with David for one of the first times ever. David had fallen asleep against him and the rather terrible movie had done nothing to slow his racing heart as he thought about how good David’s weight felt against him.

Maybe it’s not such a bad pick, after all.

Regardless, it’s the winner by default. The last scene meets all of his requirements and without the bit about the panties it does kind of make for a romantic moment. Their kitchen table isn’t quite what he’d call sturdy - replacing it is near the top of their list, but the reclaimed maple set David’s been eyeing is still a few months away - but it did hold up surprisingly well when David had decided to pretend they were fifteen years younger and fucked him over it. It can probably handle both of them sitting on it. He’ll double check the fasteners. 

He does end up having to bring a couple people on board. Jocelyn agrees to cover the store in exchange for four babysitting sessions and a bottle of wine - she’s an absolutely ruthless negotiator, but it would be worth it even if she doesn’t bring in the kind of money she had both times she’s been behind the till. 

That just leaves Stevie. He holds off until the week before, trying to balance his desire to have the plan in place with the risk of Stevie once again spilling the beans 

That just leaves Stevie. He waits until one week before David’s birthday in an attempt to avoid another case of Stevie accidentally spilling the beans about one of Patrick’s plans. He stops by the motel on the way back from a vendor run, arriving to a nearly full lot that forces him to park on the opposite side of the lot from their spot. He finds Stevie sitting at the front desk, gaze glued to the computer in front of her. “Hey Stevie. Working hard?”

“Mm, testing out the new internet.” She leans back and pulls a leg to her chest. “What about you? Where’s the old ball and chain?”

“He’s minding the store.” He leans against the counter, glancing at the game of solitaire taking up most of the computer screen. “I’m sure you know his 38th birthday is next week.”

“I actually heard it was his 29th.”

“Mm,” He breathes a laugh. “What are you planning on doing?”

Stevie hums, moving a few cards onto one of the longer stacks. “I was planning on his sappy husband doing something romantic on the big day and maybe having some wine with him the next day.”

“How do you feel about a spa trip?”

Stevie raises an eyebrow, turning her chair to face him properly. “Keep talking.”

“I’ll pay for it, just - spend the day at the Elmdale spa.” He taps his nails against the counter. “Whatever treatments David wants, just get him back home for six.”

She stares at him. “Is this a sex thing?”

“Why do you always ask that?”

She sends him her patented unimpressed look. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to ask that every time if I didn’t have to walk in on _somebody_ with his husband’s dick in his throat after they skipped out on their own wedding reception.”

He rolls his eyes. “You do remember that David and I had sex for the first time in your apartment, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t have to see it then.”

“I’m probably going to have sex with my husband on his birthday, yes, but that’s not why I want him to go to the spa.”

“So then why do you want him to go to the spa?”

He huffs and knots his fingers together. “I’m recreating the last scene from Sixteen Candles and I need David to be kept busy during the day so I can get the house ready and bake the cake. Also, he’s my husband and I love him and I want him to have a nice time on his birthday.”

Stevie stares at him. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’ll drop him off at 9:30.”

“Fine.”

He pats her shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Stevie.”

\--

The morning of July 2nd Patrick wakes up cold because his husband had rolled away from him at some point overnight, taking most of the comforter with him like some kind of warm, sexy burrito. He pushes himself up onto an elbow and lets himself take in David’s hair fanned across his forehead, the corner of his mouth shiny from a hint of drool, the tenting of the blanket at David’s hips that make the odds of a happy wake up far better. 

He slides back under the blanket and presses himself up against David’s side. Moving slow, he slides his hand under David’s shirt and splays it open over David’s belly, brushing his fingers over the sleep-warm skin, the soft hair that covers it. David shifts, pressing into Patrick’s hand as he takes a deep breath before settling back down.

Patrick lifts his leg up and settles it over David’s groin. He rolls his hips against David, David’s stubble scratching at his cheek when he kisses the side of his neck, the edge of his jaw. “Good morning, David.”

David shifts, first just pulling at the blanket then lifting his hips and grinding against Patrick’s thigh as he wakes up a bit more. He groans and grabs at Patrick’s side with clumsy fingers, nosing at Patrick’s forehead.

He pets David’s belly. “Happy birthday,”

“Mm-mm,” David shakes his head even as he presses closer. “Not getting up.”

“Hm,” He hums and shifts his thigh, presses a wet, lazy kiss to David’s neck. “Seems like part of you already is.”

David groans. “Oh my God.”

He rolls on top of his husband and catches David’s mouth with his own Making himself pull away far sooner than he’d like, he sits up and lets his weight settle on David as the blanket curls around his hips. “If you stay up I can make it worth your while, birthday boy.”

David still hasn’t opened his eyes but he smiles, the tilted, half-smothered smile that tells Patrick he’s won. “What if I want to sleep more?”

“Do you?” He leans forward enough to grind against David’s abdomen where his shirt is still rucked up. “Should I let you sleep? I can go take care of myself in the shower.”

He pushes himself up and begins to roll off David. David groans, grabbing at Patrick’s hips, and finally cracks those gorgeous brown eyes open, blinking slowly. “You’re s’posed to be nice to me on my birthday.”

He settles back down, brushing his fingers through David’s hair. “Oh, am I not being nice?”

“Mm-mm,” David shakes his head against the pillow. He tangles his fingers in Patrick’s t-shirt, pushing it up. “Better make it up to me.”

He does so in spades, giving David an orgasm and a mountain of waffles before dropping him off at the motel. He stops by the store long enough to pick up the bouquet of soft pink roses he’d ordered and check on Jocelyn, making sure she has the manual he’d prepared and that the computer is running smoothly. When he gets back home it’s time to jump into baking.

Patrick is not a very experienced baker. He’s competent, but hardly about to be featured on one of those videos David loves so much. When he was a kid he loved helping his mom bake, which really meant getting to taste test and help decorate and listen to her stories about when she would bake with her parents and how aunty Katherine once ate half a cake that was meant for a school party. By the time he’d been old enough to pay any attention, he was also too old to be baking with his mom and he was too busy with baseball, anyway. Then there was college, then - well. It never came up. 

He began to pick it up when he moved to Schitt’s Creek. It had a little to do with having the room to breathe and expand and a lot to do with meeting somebody that enjoyed food like nobody he’s ever met. It was a slow process, dipping his toes into a big, unknown pool in Ray’s kitchen in the rare occasions when the man himself wasn’t cooking enough for the whole town. He picks up some recipes from Ray, asks Jocelyn for hers when she brings Nanaimo bars to the store, buys a couple recipe books at a flea market while David’s haggling with someone over a chair. He finds baking to be enjoyable, likes following the recipe and using his hands to turn the smattering of ingredients into something tasty, something he can use to nourish those he cares about.

Which led him here. Standing in the kitchen of the home he shares with his husband, getting ready to bake him a birthday cake. It’s his mom’s recipe, one of many he’s asked her for over the last year. It’s the same chocolate cake she made for some of his birthdays, for the parties when he and his cousins would need a hit of sugar after running wild all afternoon. He’s adding his own spin to it - a gentle tilt, really - by swapping out the classic chocolate icing for a swiss meringue buttercream that will hopefully remind David of their wedding cake. It’s a mess even with him cleaning as he goes; a heaping sinkful of dishes keep him working through most of the bake time. As it cools he sets the rest of the scene, moving the chairs to the wall and changing into the costume he’s pulled together with a vest he’d found at a secondhand store and an old watch he hasn’t worn in ages. 

Cake decorating is very much not in his wheelhouse, but he considers it a win when he covers the cake with a mostly even layer of icing. He adds the handful of white fondant roses - not homemade, he only had so much time today - along the side in a half decent simulacrum of their wedding cake. The writing - _Happy Birthday David_ , simple but classic - is quite clearly homemade, but satisfaction uncurls within his chest as he takes in the final product. 

He snaps a quick picture so he can show it to his parents later. Adding 38 candles to David’s cake was never an option so he instead places four in a little arc along the edge, a nod to the second-most important celebration on July 2nd. He bites his lip, remembering the nerves tight in his gut as he sat in the booth at Cafe Tropical waiting for David as if it were yesterday. They’d just melted away like it was nothing when David had held his gift like it was something precious, had smiled at him like maybe he was too. The receipt now hangs in their home office, between the picture of them with their parents, Stevie, and Alexis at the reception and the shot Stevie had taken towards the end of his last birthday party when he had sat in David’s lap and put one of the surprisingly tasteful party hats on David’s head, his own garnished with the birthday tiara David had picked up in Elmdale.

His phone chimes, pulling him out of his reverie. He grins when he sees David’s name lighting up on the screen, followed immediately by a small surge of excited panic at the message.

_Stevie told me to tell you we’re almost in town. See you soon <3 _

Okay. Action time. He moves the cake and flowers to the table and races to put the dishes away. Dimming the lights, he pulls himself onto the table and crosses his legs, bringing the cake closer to him. The candles light up with soft hues of orange and yellow, casting dramatic shadows across the cake. He slides the lighter into his pocket and waits.

And waits. 

The candlelight flickers, dancing across the cake and his hands curled together in his lap, the wax slowly melting and sliding down itself. He bites his lip and thinks about blowing them out and waiting a few minutes - chances are they had already passed the old town sign by the time David texted him, but it’s also possible that Stevie had gotten excited and they’re only halfway back. The last thing he wants is for the candles to melt all over the cake. He curls down close to the cake and takes a deep breath, nearly jumping out of his skin when he hears the front door open. 

He listens to the sounds of David entering their home, putting his things away in the small closet. 

“Honey?”

“In here.”

The floorboards creak under David’s weight as he comes towards the kitchen. “Stevie didn’t let us stop for food so I’m going to need something if you have any big pla-”

David stops in his tracks when he comes into the kitchen, gaze flickering between Patrick and the cake in front of him. “Patrick?”

“Hi, David.” He grins at his husband, can’t possibly not, and holds the bouquet out for his husband. “C’mere,”

David laughs, a wet, happy laugh that warms Patrick to his core. The moment stretches out with David taking everything in, his detailed gaze roaming over the cake, over Patrick, until he finally moves closer. He clambers onto the table and takes the flowers, closing his eyes as he takes a breath, inhaling the same aroma that fills their bathroom every night as David applies one of his many face creams, the scent Patrick has long since come to associate with settling into bed at the end of the day, with the warmth of being enveloped in his husband’s arms. David sets them down, smile growing, uncontrolled and uncontained. “Patrick.”

“Happy birthday, David.” He takes a breath, feels the way his lungs expand, fighting for space already filled so completely with love. “Make a wish.”

David laughs again, sobs, shaking his head wildly as tears carve gentle paths down David’s cheeks. “It’s already come true.”

He leans in, moving slow enough to take in the flicker of candlelight over David’s face, the exaggerated darkness of his eyelashes as his eyes fall shut. They meet in a kiss that remains chaste only for the time it takes them to stop smiling. David cups his cheek the same he had their first time, at the wedding, countless other times, his engagement rings pressing into the edge of Patrick’s jaw. 

He eases back with one last kiss to the corner of David’s mouth and puts his hands on David’s knees, squeezing gently. “Blow your candles out.”

“Okay, I don’t remember that part of this scene.” Any heat in David’s words is lost to his smile, the breathtaking softness in his gaze when he blows the candles out. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He catches David’s hand in his and pulls it up to press a kiss to his knuckles. “So much, David.”

David ducks his head, squeezing Patrick’s fingers. He grazes a fingertip along the side of the cake and pops it into his mouth. “Did you make this?”

“Everything but the flowers, yeah.”

David takes a deep breath. “Did you take a picture of it?”

He thumbs at David’s cheeks, wiping the lingering wetness away. “I did.”

David nods, leaning into his touch. “You hate this movie.”

He shrugs. “You love it.”

“I love you.” David covers Patrick’s hand with his own, turning his face to press a kiss to Patrick’s palm. “I love you, Patrick.”

He takes a moment to brush his thumb over David’s lip before letting go. David dips a finger into the icing again, holding it up to Patrick’s mouth. “This is really beautiful, thank you.”

He takes it into his mouth with a hum, kissing the tip once he’s licked the icing off. “You’re welcome. Even got a plate and forks, a knife, the whole deal.”

“Mm,” David squints, the corners of his mouth pulling taut for a moment. “I’ve always imagined they feed it to each other by hand. It’s more romantic, you know?”

“Is it?”

“It is, yes. And it’s my birthday.”

He taps his knuckles against David’s knee. “How about we cut one piece out so I can see how the layers turned out, then we can do whatever you want.”

“Mm, fine. Stay there.” David pushes himself off the table with a soft grunt, jogging across the room to grab a knife, one of the plates from the set his cousin Martin had gotten them. “We’re eating it on the table.”

“Kay,” He leans back, watching David move. “How was the spa?”

“Good, but what’d it cost us to get Stevie to behave?”

“David, you’re her best friend. A day at the spa is hardly a chore, especially with how busy the business has been.”

“Mm, the sugar scrub did some good for her.”

“Did some good for you, too.” He winks. “You don’t look a day over thirty-eight.”

“Mkay, I deserve some cake for that.” David slices into the cake and lets out a soft, delicious moan as he drops the slice onto the plate. “Oh, look at that.”

It’s unbelievably satisfying, seeing the even spread of icing between the two layers of chocolate sponge. That warmth spreads, rolls through him as he takes in his husband’s obvious pleasure. David tears a piece off and moans as soon as he’s got it in his mouth. “Holy fuck, Patrick. This is amazing.”

He stares at the icing clinging to the edge of David’s mouth. “Thank you.”

David pulls another bit off and holds it up to Patrick, pushing it into his mouth. “Honey?”

“Mm?”

“The candles are for our anniversary, right?” David huffs a laugh. “Because you know I’m nowhere near forty.” 

He pats David’s knee. “They are for the anniversary of our first date, yes.”

“Even though that anniversary is technically the day _after_ my birthday.” David feeds Patrick another piece, smearing icing on his chin. “Kind of feels like you’re stealing my thunder.”

He reaches over and takes a piece, careful to avoid David’s clothes as he feeds it to him. “We kissed, it was a date.”

“I also brought Stevie.” David pats Patrick’s knee with his clean hand. “It’s not a date unless you tell the other person it’s a date.”

“Oh, okay.” He catches David’s hand as it’s moving another piece towards David’s mouth, stealing it for himself. “So this isn’t a date.”

“What? This is a date.” He licks the icing off of David’s fingers, pleasure sparking low in his gut as he watches David stare at his mouth. “This is - this is a fantastic date.”

“But I didn’t tell you about it.”

David rolls his eyes. “Okay, but we’re married now.”

“Oh, so now that we’re married we don’t need to communicate?” He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking as he watches his wonderful husband get worked up. “I don’t think it works like that, David.”

David squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose, wincing when he realizes he’s just smeared icing across it. “You _know_ that’s not what I meant.”

“Mm, but I think this is important. Do you remember what my parents said before the wedding?”

“Oh my God,” David bites his lip in a vain attempt to hide his smile. “We agreed to never bring that up again.”

“Are you sure? Why wouldn’t we want to remember my parents telling us how sex can’t replace open commun-”

“Okay! If I tell you it was a date will you stop?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

David huffs. He takes a breath and sits up, clearly collecting himself for the incredibly difficult task of admitting someone else is right. “I can accept that you believe it was a date.”

“Because it was a date.”

David grimaces. “It was a birthday dinner.”

He picks up the last of the piece David had cut and holds it just out of reach of his husband’s big, lovely mouth. “And a first date.”

David lifts his gaze up towards the ceiling for a long moment. “And a first date.”

“Mm,” He feeds David the last piece, lets his fingertips linger on David’s tongue. “See how easy that was?”

David nips at his finger as he’s pulling away. “Sure, sweetie. Now feed me some more cake, please.”

“Okay.” He leans forward and cups David’s neck so he can kiss the icing from David’s nose. “Happy birthday, David.”

David’s expression melts into one of Patrick’s favourite smiles, the small, soft smile that he associates with a bone-deep contentment. “Happy anniversary, Patrick.”

**Author's Note:**

> yes, I did start writing this the day the EW digital covers came out. I haven't seen sixteen candles myself and the bit of research I did told me I almost definitely wouldn't want to, but I couldn't let go of this idea once it came into my head
> 
> this is my first sc fic and the first thing I've written in a good long time so feedback is very much appreciated. I only started watching schitt's creek back in January but it very quickly came to mean an incredible amount to me, especially with the current situation being what this is. I hope this fic provided some small degree of comfort for someone the way the show and all of the fics I've inhaled have for me and that you're holding up okay. thanks for reading!


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